The War Inside My Head
by daisherz365
Summary: He is haunted by what he is done. It has become difficult for him to see what is left of him...or if there is truly anything left of him. The person he had been before all of this was broken and what was left...needed to be mended. Dark!Sherlock Sherlolly
1. Chapter 1

THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

_Hello all. I know what you're wondering…why is there a new fic when she hasn't even updated the ones she has opened, I know what it looks like but it's not what it seems. If you've followed me on Tumblr you may be familiar with quite a bit of this but it hasn't been completed yet. So, there are many things to look forward to. This started off as an anon fic in my askbox between myself and __**almightyalicia**__ over there. I didn't know who she was for pretty much the majority of this story which I'm still breaking up into chapters and editing for any slip ups we had while writing it for the past couple months. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. More chapters will soon follow. Let me know what you think of this first tiny bit, yeah? _

_much love,_

_day_

1.

The fifth time Molly found Sherlock on her couch, she knew that something was wrong. He was not bruised or battered. No signs of internal bleeding either. Yet his eyes look haunted. He was shaking terribly, his knuckles white from gripping onto his knees too hard. He looked up to meet her frightened gaze, then spoke in a lifeless manner.

"Molly, I," he gulped the lump down and continued, "tortured a man to death today. I watched him die while he pleads to live. I felt... Nothing."

Molly stood there for a brief moment just watching him. Trying to figure out whether he wanted her to say something. She felt compelled to say something. He looked so broken and shattered. He told her once that his mind was a storage space where he kept the most important of details; she didn't think this was something he'd like to remember. If he deleted it, it would be better.

She dropped her bag on the floor as she walked over to him slowly. Sitting down she stared straight ahead as she placed her hand over his. Her voice quiet and nearly catching a bit in her throat as she spoke to him. "I don't know if anything I say will be of much of use. You just want this to be over, so you can come back to John and everyone. There are many difficult things ahead that you'll have to do and for that I am truly sorry. I'm here despite that, Sherlock."

She held back the tears that were threatening to fall from her face at the thought of this man who she loved killing people, it hurt her most knowing that there was no semblance of remorse in his body about it. She was still there by his side.

He shot her an incredulous look, and said in an almost offended tone, "But that means... I'm turning into Mori-" "Don't." Molly cut his words, squeezing his hand and shaking her head slightly to stop him from saying his name. "You're not him." Sherlock opened his mouth to speak. She felt her heart sink as she repeated her words, almost as if she was trying to convince herself. He closed his jaws, swallowing his words. He looked at her glassy eyes, and then felt something aching inside him.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to do. The last time he made her upset, he ended up kissing her albeit on the cheek. The time after that she told him that she didn't count. He didn't think it was the time for any of that nor was he able to do much of anything but sit there and try not to say anything that could produce any of the tears that were welling up behind her brown eyes. Instead he grimaced, the only way he could smile or try to right now. He turned his hand under hers over and squeezed her back, muttered a rough, "thank you."

A single tear fell from Molly's eye as she returned a genuine smile. Sherlock felt his heart being squeezed, then realized how that was the first emotion he felt after the torture. He looked at Molly curiously, wondering what about her ignited that inside him. He cupped her face and wiped the tear off her face. But another tear fell as she shut her eyes. As it fell, he finally understood that the only thing roping him back from the brim of evil in this mission was this angel weeping before him.

Molly pushed his hands away; not wanting him to feel obligated to comfort her. She was supposed to be comforting him. After all he was the one who had risked his life for his friends with her small part in that and now he was stuck doing unspeakable things all because he cared.

He did care, and that was something Molly always knew as a fact. She just was waiting for him to realize before it was too late. Before this all had to happen. That's why she told him - the look of confusion that surfaced on his face at her motion of pushing him away.

"You have better things to do than worry about silly ole me. I'm supposed to be comforting you."

She let out a dry laugh. Taking a deep breath as her breathing came back to its normal pace. She was just being silly. None of this was about her. But, she was worried about him. She couldn't let his thoughts be deterred by her slip of emotion showing. That had never been a problem before.

Molly stood up and turned away from him, hoping to shy away from his persistent stare. She took one last deep breath and head to the kitchen. "I'm making tea, do you want any-" she spoke and turned around to find Sherlock right behind her. He was exceptionally close to her, allowing her to see how tender his gaze was, how the eyes have finally cleared up and the familiar shades of blue restoring its twinkle. He shook his head to decline the tea, kissed her left temple then left her flat.


	2. Chapter 2

THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

_So, here's part two. Not long at all. All the chapters are different lengths so don't worry, I'll probably post another chapter soon enough. I'm glad people are liking this so far. I know Alicia and myself are very excited to be sending this out for everyone to read. Thank you to those who have followed and the review we got. It's nice. Anyway enjoy. - day_

2.

Molly stood there for a moment in a daze trying to gather what had just happened in her mind. Did it really happen? Or was this one of those dreams where in a few seconds she would wake up? One pinch to her arm told her that this was all very real. Sherlock was gone again and she had to stop herself from running towards the window to see if she could see him at all. She imagined she wouldn't. He was a quick one. She sighed and turned back to the stove, turning on her kettle for her tea. Tea for one, she thought.

Sherlock leaped from her roof to another, his fingers furiously typing the rest of the mission to Mycroft. He could not waste time hunting the minors in the web anymore. He needed to find Moran before he knows about her. He needed to get back to Molly in the shortest time possible. Mycroft could take care of the rest, he owed him that much. He needed to keep Molly safe from danger. He paused for a millisecond at the thought of Molly when a bullet flew past before his eyes, missing him only by an inch.

He shoved his phone in his pocket and jumped down from the rooftop he was leaning off of onto a patio balcony. He looked around for a moment, waiting to see if any more gunfire would be coming his way. Most importantly if he could see anyone around that could see him. It was still rather dark out. He used his hands to lift him over the three story high metal framing of the patio and down onto the ground. He fell on a heap of trash bags. Rolling over, he felt his phone vibrate in his trouser pockets. He ignored it for the moment; he needed to get out of dodge.

Sherlock's first instinct was to hide, find somewhere safe and avoid open fire. He began running, not knowing exactly where to go. He knew someone was still keeping a close watch on him, that bullet only missed him because he stopped moving for a split second. The second was less likely to fire, for the streets were still busy and the shooting in public would only attract attention to the sniper. "_The sniper_", he thought, "_Moran._"

But before he knew it he was standing before Molly's apartment. Sherlock looked up at the windows looking for the one he knew was hers. His eyes scanning for it at a rapid pace. The sixth floor and the fourth window from the right. When he found it and saw the light on a small sigh left his mouth. That was good, he thought. It didn't mean he wouldn't go check just to be sure. He had to be thorough or he'd miss something. There was no time for mistakes.

Molly had had her tea and moved from the living room towards her small bedroom. She was huddled under blankets with a thin book in her hand. She was reading it sluggishly, her will to stay awake now lessened without the excitement or inner turmoil that quaked her with Sherlock Holmes around. He had kissed her again. On the forehead, that was much more intimate than a simple peck on the cheek (like Christmas). She stopped herself from thinking about that. Her book falling from her hands as she turned over and shut her eyes, hoping to fall asleep. However, there was a bit of interruption. Her door was opened within a flash and she let out a gasp.


	3. Chapter 3

THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

_Thank you so much for continuing to read this guys. It's lovely to hear from you all. Hope you enjoy this. I'm going to try to post every couple of days while I'm working on my other fics. I'm heading to bed since I have work in the morning, but let me know what you think please. - day_

3.

Molly sat up and tried to turn her head, but was stopped by the chilling feeling of a nail dragging down from her neck.

"Molly Hooper," the voice boomed sinisterly, "Shh... Don't move. I just want a chat."

She let out a strangled scream as he spurned her head around roughly, allowing her to look into his ice-cold, devil pair of eyes. Nothing is holding this man back.

"Sebastian Moran, how do you do?"

She was struggling to stop shaking. She bit her lip to stop herself from screaming Sherlock's name.

Upon entering Molly's flat, Sherlock sensed a disturbance. First clue being the lack of the woman herself in the open quarters of the kitchen and the sitting room where the telly and couch was. He imagined she would have stayed there for a little while.

She had, he realized upon closer inspection of the cushions and the overturned teacup. She had grown tired after some time and decided to head towards her room. As his mind replayed the movements in his head he continued trailing it by walking down the hallway towards the quaint bedroom that Molly slept in. As he grew closer to it, he heard the low murmur of a voice. It was male but he didn't hear Molly.

He took a deep breath and readied himself to find something, anything or nothing at all. These were dangerous time. He was prepared for nearly anything. He slowly pushed the door opened with the flick of his wrist, turning the knob. His body stilled upon opening the door.

"Sebastian Moran," Sherlock hissed.

The man turned around to meet his glare, his lips curling up to a devil smirk. Sherlock saw Molly tied up to her bed behind him, the Semtex on her chest, her teary eyes frightened with despair. His expression darkened as he darted his eyes angrily to Moran.

"Get your filthy hands away from her."

Molly could see the chilling look in Sherlock's eyes that he was going to kill Moran, the same pair of haunting eyes that visited her earlier.

Molly eyes shut at the sound of Sherlock's voice. He was here. How'd he know to come back? She swallowed a sob down as she opened her eyes to look at him. She was afraid of two things right now. That look in Sherlock's eyes, and the man who had just strapped the explosives to her pajama clad body while she shook and tried not to lash out at him. What was Sherlock planning to do? He couldn't very well save her with this Moran man standing so close to her.

"Sherlock…" She spoke up trying to catch his attention. She didn't like this. She couldn't be afraid of both of them. She didn't think she would be able to bear it. She watched as his eyes shifted just a second in her direction and then back to this killer. Sherlock looked about ready to pounce on Moran, but a small device in the opposing man hand stopped him in his tracks.

"No dice, Mister Holmes. I will press this button and then you'll be one step closer to actually being dead. Not to mention your doll here will be decimated all over this room. You claim to be a genius, now think."

"What. Do. You. WANT?" Sherlock yelled with gritted teeth, his rage almost overcoming him at this point.

Moran cocked his head smugly with the grin still on his face. "Wanted to have a chat with your new pet here, she wasn't very cooperative. Not even with this amount of Semtex on her. New pet," Moran spoke calmly as he stroked the button, "Just as loyal though. Wouldn't tell me how you survive the fall, what a sweet little thing." He began to stroke her hair, with her flinching at every touch.

Sherlock's hands clenched into fists repeatedly. It was the only way he could not lunge at this maniac. Moriarty didn't get his hands dirty, it had been clear for quite some time that Moran was the man who did just that. He had oceans of blood trailing behind him. It would swallow him whole. Sherlock wouldn't mind drowning him in it, at this point. _**No.**_ This man deserved worse for his malicious deeds.

"She isn't a pet. She's my… friend."

"Friend? Ah, yes James told me all about them. Though…the good doctor here wasn't among the list. He had some very nice descriptive phrases for her. Very colorful." Moran chuckled.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Colourful?"

His eyes casted upon Molly, who was still struggling to breathe with Moran's hand on her head. She looked at him with steady eyes as she shook her head. He knew what that meant. '_Don't listen to a word he says, find a way to run, let me die with him._' His eyes softened at her strength. She was willing to sacrifice herself for him. He darted back to the sight of Moran, whose face was bursting with joy at what he was about to hear next.

"What's your end game here, Moran? Molly is important; obviously you've figured that out. Your question is why? Why does she matter to me? If Jim, _**dear Jim**_ didn't want her to be killed then why come here and strap a load of explosives to her? You certainly have my attention. I've been looking for you, you know. Of course, you do. My question is why here?"

As he was rambling, Sherlock noticed that for a brief moment Molly seemed to relax. It was something that he had noticed that she found enthralling about him. When he was focused and spitting off deductions that didn't surround her person or life decisions. It calmed her for some reason.

He flexed his fingers before folding them behind his back in a firm grasp. He was waiting. Whatever he said would produce a certain result. Sherlock wasn't sure what it would be yet, but his mind was working. That was good, right?

Moran pursed his lips as Sherlock rambled, his eyes scrutinizing his every word. Sherlock then saw how his lips relaxed when he stopped his deduction, almost as if he let a tiny breath of relief out. Sherlock tilted his head up, his smile beginning to form. Moran's eye flashed a sight of panic as Sherlock continued, "You're not here to kill anyone. If you do that, you wouldn't get what you want. You want answers. You want me give you answers in exchange for her safety. The Semtex, the device, are all... Fake."


	4. Chapter 4

THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

_Another small chapter. Don't you just love the suspense? I might…just a little. You are all so rad, just so you know. P.S. I love you. – day_

_P.P.S. I'm currently editing more of this baby so besides the seven chapters remaining that are still pre-written and waiting to be uploaded we also have MORE. Isn't that brilliant? (Did I just turn into Arthur Shappey? Brilliant!)_

4.

Moran let out a chuckle. "You're good, Holmes. Good eye too." He paused a brief moment, taking a step away from Molly's side and coming to full height.

"However, you've missed something. Don't you always. I could still kill her and you. I'm still armed in more places than that gun that you've got hidden in your coat. It's not really as good as the Belstaff, sorry." He smiled again. "How about I get your lady out of that relic and we go out to the front room for a little chat? Huh, does that sound fun?"

Sherlock hadn't taken his eyes off the man since he came into the room. He had faltered for a moment but now was trying to play nice. That didn't sit well with him.

"No. You walk out of here and I'll take care of my _lady_." Sherlock's face scrunched up at that term.

Moran cocked his head to a side and spoke in a terrifying manner, "And what makes you think I will listen to you and leave when things are just beginning to look up?"

Sherlock shot him a dirty look then opened his mouth, "Because you ARE unarmed. Because Moriarty had always trained you to tell a story before executing the murder. And also because I have already texted Mycroft and his team is coming up in another," Sherlock takes a look at his watch and began to count, "oh, 4, 3, 2..."

Moran's face turned as white as a sheet. The sound of footsteps running around the lower floors could be heard as well as shouting more than likely from the other tenants who were woken up from the noise. He tried to run towards the window to jump out of it but Sherlock was there. He pulled him back by the collar of his jacket. Moran reached up to grab him by the throat but Sherlock quickly interceded with a quick twist of the man's arm and a kick to his legs knocking him down a meter or two. He shoved him onto the floor with his knee in his back. Pinning him down in the process.

"You aren't getting away this time. Don't you see that?" Sherlock told him quite viciously.

A couple of men burst through the doors with their guns on Moran's head. Sherlock sneered at them, "Just this lot? Fine, take him. And leave us alone. Don't worry she's not in danger." As they leave, Sherlock spurn around and frantically slipped the fake Semtex off Molly. The jacket melted off her within split second. Sherlock look up to see the palest shade on Molly's face, as well as her eyes tightly shut. He then realized he just transformed into a monster before her.


	5. Chapter 5

THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

5.

Sherlock sat down a few feet away from her. He didn't think it was okay if he touched her in anyway, despite the fact that she was no longer in danger. Or so it seemed. Sherlock was the danger to her right now. He could tell by just listening to the way she breathed in quick gasps, sobs emitting from her lips as she tried to gather herself enough. He didn't think talking was a good thing either at the moment. He usually prided himself on doing just that to explain something. Anything he could say right now would not come with a calm reaction. He had just shown a side of him that Molly had never seen before. He had done his best not to let her see him in that way. Not because she needed to be protected but it had become so clear that possibly she did need that. From him of all people.

"Sherlock...?" Molly breathed his name out.

Sherlock's heart ached at how lost and terrified her voice sounded to him, as if she was praying for the Sherlock she knew and loved to come back. Sherlock took a deep breath to calm his rage down and hummed, his eyes watching her lids begin to open. Her glassy eyes were searching for a familiarity in the man she thought she knew so well.

As her eyes caught his, she reminded her, 'this is the man you love. Good or evil, that is your Sherlock Holmes.'

Molly had drawn her legs up to her chest and was just staring at him. There was something familiar in his eyes. It almost reminded her of the night that he told her, "You do count and I've always trusted you." He seemed nearly as unsure of what he was supposed to do if she couldn't forgive him. That's what she wanted, she supposed. She wasn't sure how to go about letting him know that she knew where his true intentions lie.

"It's okay." She told him quietly as she held his gaze. He was still her Sherlock. He was just rough around the edges. She always knew he was. This time with him gone away doing what he needed to do, it had become his dominant action. Now, she was dealing what was left of that. He was haunted. She wasn't sure if it was because of how she drew away from him or was there something else on his mind. She repeated herself again, this time with a little smile on her face. "It's okay."

He felt himself breaking apart at her smile. Sherlock's gaze dropped as if he was ashamed of himself. "I've become a monster. You saw the monster in me," he said, his voice filled with guilt.

Molly's heart shattered at the hurt he was feeling as she panicked to find a way to make things right again. "Sherlock, stop. You are not. I didn't see anything! I shut my eyes, remember? It's okay! It's okay..." Molly rambled out, her painful expression helplessly trying to piece him back to whole.

Sherlock couldn't look at her. He never wanted any of this to happen. There were a set of rules and guidelines that he had set for himself when dealing with Molly and he had broken nearly every single one of them.

This pain that he was feeling wasn't anything that he had felt before. Not even when he was using the drugs to forget the shambles that he had caused and the idea that he wasn't good enough to be accepted by his own family. Sitting here next to a woman who he continued to hurt mercilessly. It was worse.

"I never wanted this for you. I keep hurting you, Molly."

He spoke and it sounded so far away. It was the anguish speaking. He stood up without another word. He needed to get away from her for the moment.

Sherlock stopped at the door abruptly, his head hung low enough for Molly to see the sadness overcoming him.

"I'm always the bad guy when it comes to you," he said, his back still facing her, "All I do is hurt you Molly. It's time I stop doing so."

He was about to continue his stride forward when he felt a pair of hands wrapped tightly around his waist. He stiffened at the embrace for a second before placing his hands on hers as she sobbed pitifully onto his back.

"You're not the bad guy."

Molly's arms tightened around him. She couldn't let him do this again. He was beating himself up over something that he couldn't control. Or the idea that he couldn't stop it from happening again. She didn't care much about that anymore. She just didn't want him to leave. Not like this.

"You can't just walk away. You have no idea what it's like to watch someone you love and care about decide that they can't handle their hurt. I've watched you for so long and I won't let you fall again. Sherlock." She breathed his name into his shoulder. "You can shout it at the top of your lungs how much of a horrible person you think you are. I don't believe it. I know you. Just please, don't."

Sherlock shook his head in disbelief; behind him was a woman who was willing to sacrifice her safety and her happiness to be with someone like him. Him, of all the men in the world. He felt his eyes beginning to water like how he did on the rooftop of Bart's a few months ago. His head was spinning from the overwhelming emotions playing through his head. He turned himself around, his eyes glistening with the most gentle and loving look.

Molly smiled at that gaze- the Sherlock she knew was back.

Molly didn't say anything, unlatched herself from around him and took a step back. The smile still present on her face. She didn't know how she continued to manage to pull him back but she was happy to see him looking like he should be. She fiddled with her hands, unsure as to what she was supposed to do next. The sound of her name being called from outside the room somewhere had them both stilling.

"MOLLY!"


	6. Chapter 6

THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

_Hello again. I think it's been longer than I thought it was since I last updated and I'm sorry about that. I've been working a bit and trying to find time for writing and editing this when I can. Speaking of writing, if you get the chance would you guys mind reading a new story I posted just yesterday? It's called __**Pas de deux**_**. **_I always get nervous about those kind of things. Plus I have a new one-shot up (_Who Am I?)_ also if you need any more to read haha. _

_One more thing before you read all of this: Thank you so much for continuing to support this story. I know it might not be the best, but I know that Alicia and I have had a good time working on it. So I really appreciate your kind words about it even if I don't really get the time to tell you guys that individually. You're all so wonderful. _

_Without further ado, please read and let me know what you think! Much love, day _

6.

She looked back up at Sherlock and quickly ushered him into her more than cramped closet. She then threw the Semtex jacket out of the window just seconds before the man stomped in frantically.

"Molly, are you alright? Oh dear god, you've been bawling!"

"Lestrade? Is this even your division?"

"No, Mycroft told me to hurry here immediately. I don't even know why, said you were in trouble."

Molly was about to begin to breathe when she saw John coming through the door with the cane in his hand, huffing between breaths.

"Sorry, I was having a drink with John. Asked him to come along."

Molly tried not to act too panicked over the fact that they were both there. It wasn't that she didn't expect them to worry over her, she just rather they not at the current moment. She currently had a supposedly dead man hidden in her closet. She didn't know how well this could end if anyone was to find him there.

"Oh, no it's fine. I had a good cry about it. Just a bit of a misunderstanding. John." She turned to him. "You didn't have to come all this way for me. I'm fine." She insisted. She gave a smile for good measure.

"Nonsense, Molly. It's what a-," John cleared his throat, "friend would do."

Molly saw the hurt in John's eyes as it shot past her. She knew he did not take Sherlock's death very well. Heck, he was back on a cane, and his right hand was tremoring a bit. She suddenly wished she was not lying anymore, and that Sherlock would just waltz out of the closet door for John. But she held it in, and judging by the closed doors, so was he. 'It's not over yet', she told herself.

Her mind drifts for a moment to one of the only conversations they've had about John and what was to happen to him emotionally after the fall. It was during the planning of his fall. He told her all of the things that she later would come to know. The tremor being one of them. She tried not to zero on it and make the army doctor uncomfortable.

"Thank you, John. I appreciate it you know. Would you like some tea? Since you've come all this way?"

Both men nodded but Lestrade is the one to immediately tell her, he'll do it. He guides her into the living room with John. There are still a few officers milling around - her protection she suppose as she is ushered onto the sofa where John sits. She's now away from her room and from the detective who could freely roam around if he wishes to. Or would he leave? Molly tries not to think about it, she has to focus on whom she's around and how to not raise any more suspicion. John turns to her hesitantly.

"Alright?" He asks, his gaze locked on her. He's searching for something. Molly doesn't know what but she lets out a little nervous sigh.

"Yeah, and you?"

He lets out a little noise of affirmation.

"Fine."

It is quite awkward after that; it seems to go smoothly once Lestrade comes back with the tray of tea. Molly consumes herself with drinking it. Chamomile; supposed to calm her down. She's still feeling a bit rattled but this is okay.

Lestrade decided to go ahead to ask her questions like how he usually did on his cases. Molly silently prayed that his deduction skills had not honed itself with Sherlock's death as she lied through her teeth about what had happened in the house earlier. She described everything to be a burglary which she managed to get out of, though not entirely convincing. She could feel John's suspicious glare next to her, blinding her with the guilt of lying, but she did her best to ignore that voice chiding in her.

When Lestrade was done John, who had been quiet during the questioning spoke up. Lestrade had left to put the tray of empty teacups away.

"Why was Mycroft called? I recognize some the men from previous arrangements…" He told her.

"I don't know. I suppose he felt pity for me. Most people do these days. I imagine he has been keeping an eye on me though I'm not really sure why. I wasn't really in his brother's life. I just don't really know John."

Just as Lestrade was coming back in John reached over and patted her hand. "You did matter to Sherlock. I think he just wasn't sure how to not to be a complete dick due to your affection towards him. You're still working at Bart's. That counts for something."

"Well, I've always had my job even before Sherlock Holmes came into the picture." She told him truthfully. That was her one constant in her life. She would have to go back in the morning. She'd rather just not for one day. She was quite exhausted now. The adrenaline of the past hour or so had finally vanished.

"Would you like one of us to stay?" Lestrade said as he noticed how tired she looked.

Molly saw her window of opportunity and exaggerated a yawn. She shook her head politely, and then stood up to send them off. She gave them a small smile, convincing enough to let them know she was okay. They exchanged some hugs before finally dispersing the house, leaving her rushing back into the bedroom.

She slowed her pace as she entered to see Sherlock watching from the window overlooking the streets. She knew exactly which car he was eyeing on, and stayed silent until she knew the car had gone.

Sherlock could feel Molly's gaze on him. She was worried, within good reason he supposed. He almost got caught by two of the people he had "died" to protect. He stayed there looking out the window watching not only the cars but the people.

He would step back in a moment; this wasn't Baker Street where people once were used to seeing a lanky man brooding at the window. He wasn't brooding now; he needed to see his friend. He missed him. Missed all of them. He let out a sigh, his eyes shut for a brief moment.

He turned around to see Molly walking about the room. The door was closed now. It was quiet again. If he listened close enough he would know without even having to deduce that they were alone once again.

Molly gave him a little smile and walked towards him. She interlaced their fingers together and lightly cocked her head to the bed. He knew exactly what she had meant, _it's been a rough night, let's get some rest, and come to the bed with me_. She pulled him along by his hand, him moving slightly emotionlessly with her.

Molly let go of his hand as she climbed onto the bed, only to be surprised by Sherlock not only joining her, but also slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her to close contact.

Sherlock didn't think too much about what he was doing. His body was reacting to a need that he couldn't yet truly could grasp. It wasn't something tangible, though Molly Hooper was at this moment. When he was a boy there had been times when he would just grab hold of Mummy when she would be there with him and not let go. She was safe for him. Molly was safe. She was soft and caring even with the few ragged lines across her skin. He tucked his face into her neck. Taking a deep breath.

He spoke to her, "Can you promise me something Molly?"

Molly looked down to meet his tender gaze still tucked under her chin. His former evil glint had disappeared, so had the piercing pain from before. He looked almost at peace as he held her close. She didn't know why, but she didn't ask. 'It could be the adrenaline crashing', she told herself. She stroked his curls and spoke, her voice in a soothing sleepy whisper, "Anything for you."

"Forget about everything that's happened tonight. I don't enjoy the idea of you associating myself with bad memories. I think I've done that enough. Just, forget it." He told her, his eyes tightening close. He had thought about asking something else but this was what was on the tip of his tongue. He needed her to forget all of it for now. It wasn't necessary.

Molly stopped caressing his hair when he was done. She didn't know whether she could forget that Sherlock, but she lied anyway.

"Okay," she chirped, her heart beginning to pound a little faster, as she continued to twist his curl in her finger. "Goodnight Sherlock."

Sherlock noticed the pause and her increasing heartbeat, but chose to say nothing about it.

"Goodnight love," he said, ignoring the stiffening Molly under him, he will blame it on the adrenaline tomorrow if he must.

_Did he really just say that? Love?_

Molly lay there for a few moments trying to decide whether or not the man had gone too far into that head of his. She decided that he must have. Terms of endearment weren't his thing. It took him a good long while to even come to think of others who were clearly his friends as friends. It was the adrenaline. It had this weird effect on him. Molly relaxed after a moment, a smile on her face as she sighed, her eyes closing as she fell asleep. A part of her hoping that he would maybe return into the robot of a man that he was and the other half struggling to come to grips with the idea of an affectionate Sherlock Holmes.

As Molly closed her eyes, the night's happening flashed before her eyes. It frightened her at first, but she loosened up once she ignored the fact that she was the hostage for the night. She watched flashes of the scene unfold and slowly came to realization that she might have dug a place in his heart. She wasn't sure what to feel about that, but she knew she liked that idea. As that image seeped into her mind, she cautiously drifted into sleep, not wanting all these to end when day breaks.


	7. Chapter 7

THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

_I'm in the middle of working on a new installment for Entwined finally… but thought it would be good to post another edited chapter of this one. I think this one is slightly more lighthearted hehe ;) Hope you like it. - day_

7.

Sherlock was good at pretending to do things. Human things. If it was any other time he might have decided to go with the way things were going but it still wasn't safe. He hadn't wanted to leave her, yet. Despite her smiles and glances that told him that everything would be fine with due time he found himself in a compass as to what he could do about that. Clearly leaving her in the first place had been a mistake. She was used as bait to bring him back and now he was merely stuck. Besides Moran's arrest, there were still others out there that he needed to make sure didn't try something like this again.

His eyes flitted down to the woman who was beginning to make him question nearly everything. What was he supposed to do with her? Or without her really? She made it seem so easy to be good and normal. That had never been particularly his forte, however.

He tries to put what Molly Hooper was to him in words; but for the first time ever, words failed him. He found himself at a loss for what Molly meant to him-why he had did what he did, why he had said what he said when he called her "love". Words were popping forward in his mind palace, yet he saw it all as a blur. Except for the word Molly.

He snapped out of his head in frustration, only to feel his eyelids beginning to open. He cursed himself as he realized that he just dreamed about a person.

What surprised him more was the fact that he had woken up to an empty bed. There was a smidgen of light coming from the window but it was still fairly early. He sat up with a start, and looked around the room. It looked no different than it had the night before. Besides the blanket that fell off of him as he moved around. Had she left him? Had she actually turned the table on him? His ears perked up at the sound of noise coming from the kitchen. A curse, and louder clanking of metal and such. Sherlock chuckled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly edged his way out of the room. He stuck to the walls as he wasn't sure if it was completely safe. It was daytime now and it was more plausible to have visitors over during the day. He was sure Molly would have found a better way to conceal him however. The sight that he found himself with was a bit more than baffling. Molly was there but she did indeed have company. Another woman. Who was she? He ducked back behind the corner, as the two women continued juggling with the pots and pans obviously looking for something in particular.

He squinted his eyes, and began to deduce the stranger. Close to 40, takes extremely good care of herself, chalk on black skirt, so elementary teacher then. Has the same eyes, mouth and hair texture as Molly, only blonder and taller. Molly doesn't really like her. Probably because her sister has always been "the prettier one", she "the smarter one". Sibling rivalry, not uncommon. Sister asking for money, broke her heel nearby, judging by the splatter. Was about to return it, now she has to pay. Big spender then.

"I'm sorry but I don't really have the funds to spare right now." He heard Molly mutter as she turned away from her sister and opened the small fridge to grab a couple of things.

"Maybe I have a pair you could borrow until the weekend. I should be able to give you some then."

Molly, Molly, Molly always willing to make amends when the thought of disappointing anyone surfaces. He couldn't see it on her face for he was hidden again, it was in her tone. Her hesitance to let anything happen to her sister. Despite her irritation with her.

"Mom has been blowing up my phone, Molls." The tightness of her sister's voice was something Sherlock expected from her appearance but it still threw him off guard. She was the opposite of Molly. "What happened last night? She said that Mrs. Lewis called her after all the noise that the police and those men in black came through."

He heard Molly sigh. "It's nothing, Leslie. I'm fine. Tell her to stop worrying, or better yet not send you to do her dirty work. I have a phone." Sherlock frowned at the tone in Molly's voice. He had never heard that before. "I'll get you a few pairs. Size eight, right?"

"Yeah."

Before Sherlock could think about moving, he hadn't wanted to really… Molly had turned around the corner and bit down a gasp at the sight of him. She continued walking towards the room, despite the look he had already given her.

"What's with the gasp Molls? Should I come?" Leslie asked, beckoning forward to follow her.

"NO!" Molly yelled, panicking a tad. "No, erm, just a lizard, but it scrambled away. No worries. You know how I freak out over these pesky creatures. Here are your shoes."

Leslie took the pair of black flats from her sister, her face slightly scrunched up at the idea of her mismatched outfit. She sighed it off and put them on, then began to head out.

"Thanks. I love you Molly, but you are really weird."

A small giggle elicited from Molly as she led her sister out the door and then she turned back around, locked the door and let out a sigh. Phew, that was really freaking close. She ran a hand through her hair and looked up at the peeking Sherlock who was leaning around the corner where he had just almost been caught.

"What am I going to do with you?" she mumbled as she walked back into the kitchen, decided that she really still wanted that French toast.

Sherlock stood up and walked to Molly. Molly did a double take at the consulting detective who was leaning into her face as close as a man could. She recognized the eyes; he was looking at her as if she was a case, one of his puzzles.

"You're... Interesting, Molly Hooper." He concluded finally as Molly face burned from the heat that had risen onto it at his minute-long stare.

Molly cocked her head slightly, then asked mechanically, "Should I say thank you?"

Sherlock chuckled at that, leaving Molly blushing even more.

She was being completely serious. Should she? When he said things like that she wasn't sure if he was actually complimenting her or what. Not that she thought after everything that he was capable of that again. Who exactly knew Sherlock Holmes? John Watson, some would say. His brother, more than most but Molly found herself confused about the things he's done since he saved her from that Moran. He was still very much himself he just did and said things that either she didn't agree with or she would never ever thought would fly out of his mouth.

She composed herself, smiling a little at the notion that she was interesting to him…even a little bit. She wasn't doing anything differently. What was he seeing, now?

"What are you laughing at?" Molly squeaked, feeling awfully self-conscious of herself at the moment.

Sherlock looked at her with an amused stare, and said in a cheeky tone, "You cut people up for a living and yet you are afraid of lizards. You disapprove of your sister and hate how your sister calls you weird just because you are smarter than her yet you tolerate her to such an extent. Such an extent that even John wouldn't allow himself for Harriet. You, well, you have a problem, Molly Hooper."

Molly's mouth drew into a line. She looked away from the all-seeing eyes of the former detective suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She's always felt that way around him. Never knowing how to go about defending her choices before, now however she felt like she could. Just this once at least.

"Thanks for point that out, but yeah. Everyone isn't like you or John or your brother or whatever. Not everyone is willing to degrade someone to make them feel good about themselves despite how nice it would be. It would be easy to tell her that but I choose not to because she's my sister and that actually means something to me."

Sherlock didn't say anything for a brief moment once Molly was done with her small defense. She took that as it her cue to let him be. He needed to simmer on his thoughts and she really needed to take a shower. She felt unclean now.

Molly locked the bathroom door and hung her towel neatly on the hook next to the shower. She felt conflicted. In the span of hours, her world took a 180 degrees flip only to flip back to complete normalcy. She let the hot water run her thoughts out of her mind as she allowed herself to get lost in her emotions.

It took her some time before she realized the bathroom door has been unlocked, with Sherlock sitting on the toilet next to the shower with only the thin, translucent curtains between them.

Molly froze for about three minutes before she could even think about doing anything. She was in the middle of lathering her hair with shampoo and it only took her to feel the burning in her eyes for her to jump back into action. She dipped her head under the water, wincing as she tried to get rid of all of the soapy mess that had slipped down onto her face. While at the same time calling out to Sherlock.

"I came in here for a reason you know. The door was also locked for the same exact reason. This is a bit much, Sherlock."

She ended slowly trying not to remind herself that he could probably see her naked clad body right now or at least her silhouette. That thought didn't make her happy; it made her feel very tense.

Sherlock pursed his lips, he did not have a single clue why he was so vehemently bent on entering at that very moment. Or why he couldn't wait to say the things to make things right with Molly.

"I've upset you," he began, only to be interrupted by a very still and stiff Molly yelling, "OBVIOUSLY". He ignored her burning anger and continued, "I apologize, I want you to know that I mean it, and that I needed you to know that."

Molly remained still but kept the yelling, "REALLY SHERLOCK, NOW?"

"Yes. If I chose any other time, I fear it might be wasted. You've been thinking about it and while you're angry with me, I feel that-"

Sherlock didn't get to finish his sentence as Molly pulled back just a small bit of the curtain, her head peeking out. Her hair sopping wet and glaring right at him.

"Sherlock as much as I would love to hear you weasel your way out of being an ass to me about my life, I am in the middle of showering. I want some privacy…to be alone for the moment. Would you mind…no…just get out." She stated, each word coming out through gritted teeth. The steam that was surrounding her made her point that much more plausible.

"Right." He stated, blinking as he made a move to leave once Molly was hidden behind the curtain once again. He was making it worse.

He huffed, as he reached the door. "I only say those things because it puzzles me, how you respond to such negativity with such cheeriness even if it isn't real. Sorry for disturbing your private time, Molly." His hand twisted the door knob and he was gone.

Molly whispered to herself as the door shut close, "Well, at least now I know it's not exactly complete normalcy." She cursed Sherlock under her breath before continuing her bath.

Sherlock leaned against the wall opposite the bathroom door. His head was spinning with confusion. He was usually gone by this time, off to finish off what he started when he "fell" months ago. Yet there he stood, seconds ago before a naked Molly silhouette, he gulped at the recollection. Something was wrong with him.


	8. Chapter 8

THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

_Hello again. Another smallish chapter for you. I'm a bit tired and under the weather right now (fever) and I have to go to work in the morning but I hope you enjoy this. - day_

8.

He could only recall two instances that he hadn't deleted that he felt this way. He was having trouble deciding why that was and why he didn't just walk away now. She didn't want to see him and he had the perfect solution for that. He could walk away, delete what had happened and it be over with. He would see her soon. He would come back when the time was right. Something was holding him in his place across from the door where she occupied a small space. His eyes veered from the door to down the hallway. Maybe if he took a brief moment of air outside he could clear his head. Yes, that's what he would do. He walked down the corridor, to Molly's room and entered, walked over to the window and peered down at it. There was no one there. This would be safe and he'd be able to come back later. Yes, this was a good plan for now.

When Molly finished her bath, she instantly noticed something was different. She wandered around the house to allow Sherlock's disappearance to sink into her. She sighed at that, wondering whether she had chased him off after all the yelling. She ignored that thought, concluding that she is sort of angry with Sherlock at the moment. She looked at the time, still too early for work. She then decided to unearth her diary from the back of her shelves. She needed to write all these feelings out somewhere.

Once she finished scribbling down every thought and event that had passed her mind the past couple hours, she found herself tearing up. It had been a roller coaster emotionally and it was really starting to hit her. Sure, she was still a bit peeved at Sherlock for being so him but she knew she also couldn't blame him for being himself. It's what he does best even if it's not such a welcome thing. Especially when it comes to her. She tucked the small leather bound book away again, before looking at the time again. She needed to head out now. That had taken more time than she had thought. Hopefully her boss wouldn't be too pissed with her for being a little late. She needed to get back to the normal part of her life if only for a few hours. In the back of her mind she mulled over what she could be possibly have to deal with next.

Sherlock appeared out of nowhere next to Molly as she stepped onto the road. Molly look at him incredulously, then hissed loudly, "Are you mad? Nobody should see you. You're dead!"

"My dear Molly, do you think I'll allow it?" He proceeded to hail a taxi, then explained, "I'm escorting you to work."

Molly frowned at that. "Sherlock, you've apologized. I accept your apology. Now go back into hiding like you did before."

"Nonsense, I'm not going to risk another Moran incident, not anymore."

Molly glared at him for a moment before letting out a huge sigh. "You're unbelievable, you know that? I'm not a china doll. I can very well take care of myself."

She told him as he opened the door of the taxi and gestured for her to get in before sliding through himself. Molly told the cabbie to head to Bart's while also turning her attention back to her companion who she thought would have gone by now. "Once I get out of this taxi, you need to go away. As much as I appreciate your concern I don't need to be worrying about you being found out. Don't you have much more important things to do than look after me?"

Sherlock was looking at her with the most unreadable gaze. She prided herself as of late of breaking those looks down to one thing or another but when it was directed specifically at her, she wasn't sure how to decode it.

"Stop looking at me like that. I'm really not that fascinating, rather dull actually. The most I've ever done was help you," she whispered as she turned to look out the window at the passing streets.

Sherlock pursed his lip like how a five-year-old would when denied of his candy. Molly knew that he was holding something in, an insult probably. She shrugged her shoulders to his unwavering stare.

"Stop it!" she said, her voice almost shrieking, as she smacked Sherlock's face away from hers. Sherlock gasped at the sudden attack from the mousy pathologist, his hand cupping the cheek she laid hands on.

"YOU'RE unbelievable," he huffed, looking away from her sorry gaze.

Molly didn't know what came over her. She was just so stressed out.

"Sorry." She mumbled as the taxi came to a stop.

She reached over the seat to give the cabbie her fare and ducked out. She hoped he would heed her request for him to go while he still could. Her heart was going to plummet if she had to endure anymore of this. There was so much a girl could handle before she truly cracked into little pieces. The stitches wouldn't hold for much longer.

Sherlock remained in the taxi. His former frown beginning to loosen up as he started to laugh silently at Molly's outburst. He smiled at how she never fails to surprise him, in a good way. His grin widened at the thought of how special she is and yet she does not have the slightest clue.

"Molly Hooper... She's an odd species, Mr. Holmes?"


End file.
